Work It Figgis Agency
by Red Witch
Summary: The Figgis Agency is clawing their way to success, literally doing whatever it takes to make a buck.


**The disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters is filling out some paperwork. This is just some mad ideas from my tiny mind on ways the agency will claw it's way back financially. Doing literally whatever it takes. **

**Work It Figgis Agency **

"Cyril you can't be **serious**!" Lana groaned. She was with Cyril in his office. "I thought we were done with stupid assignments like this!"

"It's **work**, Lana!" Cyril snapped. "Which this agency seriously needs."

"It's handing out more stupid flyers!" Lana snapped.

"No," Cyril corrected her. "It's handing out pamphlets that have information about an important referendum on the California ballot."

"We're **still** tied with that New California Statehood thing?" Lana was stunned.

"It's an important question that's on the upcoming election ballot!" Cyril snapped.

"Splitting California into two or more states?" Lana asked. "Hasn't this question been going on since the 1800's?"

"Yes, but it's really gaining momentum now," Cyril told her. "And for two hundred dollars…"

"_Two hundred dollars?"_ Lana shouted. "Cyril, hookers make more than that!"

"That's because they don't **complain,**" Cyril gave her a look. "It's work, Lana! What do you want from me?"

"I'm not handing out flyers," Lana told him.

"I wasn't asking you to," Cyril said. "I sent Pam and Ray out a couple of hours ago."

"We're back," Pam said as she walked in. "All done."

"You didn't just throw all the pamphlets in the trash again, did you?" Cyril asked.

"No," Pam shook her head. "I covered at least five blocks while Ray did his super speed thing."

"In other words," Lana sighed. "Ray did all the work."

Ray walked in wearing a white and purple jogging outfit. "It wasn't **that** bad. Most of it was on my jogging route anyway."

"You run around LA to jog?" Lana was stunned.

"What can I say?" Ray shrugged. "Robot legs. Can't beat 'em. When they work that is."

He showed them a watch like device on his arm. "Plus, I got all my steps in for not only today but for the rest of the week. I'm good!"

"Hooray, we earned two hundred dollars," Lana groaned. "I can buy a piece of food this week."

"Our agency does have other avenues of revenue," Cyril shrugged. "There's Krieger's online college."

"That only pays a couple hundred dollars a month at most," Ray said.

"And most of our clients are currently serving 25 to life," Pam added.

"I prefer to think of it as a niche market," Cyril shrugged. "And there's that other online business Krieger and the rest of you made up."

"You mean the college essay scam?" Lana asked.

"It's technically **not** a scam," Ray said. "It's a study aid. It says so right on the disclaimer."

"You guys are selling half-assed college term papers for kids to copy off of," Lana grumbled.

"Didn't **you** contribute at least five of your old essays to the site?" Pam looked at her.

Lana shrugged. "I didn't say not **all **of it was without quality…"

"Well it's not term paper season so that part of the business is a little slow," Ray admitted. "It'll pick up in a few months."

"Until then we need more cash flow revenues," Cyril nodded. "And I've recently acquired one from Mr. Lee."

"Who's Mr.…?" Pam began. "Wait, you mean **Ugly?**"

"Mr. Ulysses George Lee," Cyril corrected. "Is a not only a high-ranking executive of the Tunt Corporation, he's very well placed in business and high society. And a good client in his own right."

"What did Cheryl's company manager hire us for?" Lana asked.

"Well if you must know," Cyril cleared his throat. "I agreed to assist him with some of his personal assets as well as some assets for the Tunt Corporation."

"Assist how?" Ray asked.

Cyril paused. "By acting as an agent for him purchasing certain stocks. And holding those stocks in our name until they mature enough for a decent profit. Then I sell the stocks and we retain a cut of twenty percent of the profits. Which is very generous."

"We've become a rathole haven't we?" Ray realized.

"Well if you want to be so crude about it, yes," Cyril sighed. "Hey! We're making money here!"

"By money laundering!" Lana snapped.

"Yeah like **everything else** we've done has been perfectly legal so far," Ray looked at her. "Like Pam and Krieger's dark web online store where they sell stuff we've stolen."

"Oh yeah," Cyril blinked. "I forgot about that. How's that going?"

"Ehh, so-so," Pam shrugged. "We cleaned up selling those fur earmuffs to people in Canada. But we're getting our ass kicked by Nile Prime with the clothes we swiped from those stores that went out of business."

"That is one of the reasons those stores went out of business in the first place," Lana sighed. "Now we have added theft and selling stolen goods."

"_Added?"_ Ray asked. "We've been doing that for years!"

"That reminds me," Pam said. "There's some primo art and silverware stashed at Cheryl's place. If we sell it while she's passed out, we can make some good scratch."

Cyril looked at Lana. "I suppose you're going to whine about how immoral it is to steal from Cheryl?"

Lana shook her head. "No, I'm on board with **that part**."

"Good news!" Krieger walked in with a check. "The insurance check came in!"

"What insurance check?" Lana asked.

"From that air bar we invested in that burned down," Krieger gave Cyril the check.

"I thought we didn't have insurance on that," Pam asked. "I remember because I was the one who was supposed to get it and forgot."

"Not according to the papers Cyril and I forged," Krieger shook his head.

Lana asked. "What insurance company would be stupid enough to accept a forged insurance policy?"

"Tunt Insurance," Cyril said.

"No surprises there," Lana groaned. "Should have known."

"Ah forgery and insurance fraud," Ray remarked. "Fun."

"Duncan and our agency get equal cuts of the profits," Cyril said as he looked at the check. "That's thirty grand for only a few hours of work. And some of that money we're going to invest."

"Invest?" Lana asked.

"Yes invest," Cyril said. "As in make our money work for us. Because God knows most of us won't."

"Burn," Pam remarked.

Lana groaned. "This isn't going to end up like Mallory's stupid real estate schemes is it?"

"God no!" Cyril said. "If I do invest in real estate I'm going to personally look at the property myself rather than buy it on the Internet! No, I gave Krieger forty grand to invest in safe, reliable bonds."

"Oh, is that what that money was for?" Krieger blinked. "I didn't do that."

"So much for the safe reliable part," Ray groaned.

"Well what did you do with the money?" Cyril asked.

"I bought a farm," Krieger grinned.

"YOU DID WHAT?" Everyone shouted.

"Nice Krieger," Pam groaned. "The agricultural market is slower than a turtle in molasses!"

"You spent forty thousand dollars for a **farm?"** Cyril shouted.

"Technically I only spent fifteen thousand dollars for the farm," Krieger shrugged. "The rest was for equipment and taxes."

"This is going to be like that stupid city you wanted to build in the mountains isn't it?" Ray groaned. "Do we even want to know where this farm is?"

"It's in Colorado," Krieger said.

"I don't care if it's in…" Cyril did a double take. "Wait a minute…"

"Are you saying what I **think **you're saying?" Ray did a double take.

"Whaaaaa….?" Pam did a double take. "I'm seriously asking. I have no idea what you're inferring."

"You **didn't…**?" Lana gasped. "You did, didn't you?"

"Yup, yup, yup," Krieger grinned. "Pretty soon our product K-Buds will be hitting the store shelves! Well the ones that are licensed to carry them."

"A pot farm," Lana groaned. "You bought a **pot farm."**

Ray spoke up. "Hang on, that's actually a good idea."

Pam looked at him. "You would know."

Ray snapped. "My brother is the pot farmer!"

"That reminds me," Krieger said. "Do you have your brother's prison address? I'd like to get some tips."

"I'd been meaning to call him anyway," Ray sighed. "You can talk to him this afternoon."

"Hang on," Lana realized something. "Krieger who did you get to run the farm? It's not one of your clones is it?"

"No," Krieger waved. "There's a couple guys I know who are running it for a reasonable cut."

"How reasonable?" Cyril realized.

"Fifty percent," Krieger shrugged.

"FIFTY PERCENT?" Cyril shouted.

"Cyril, the pot business is just starting to boom!" Krieger said. "There will be plenty of money for everyone! And these guys are pros! Everything will be fine!"

Meanwhile somewhere in Colorado…

"_Green Acres is the place to be!"_ Dr. Quinn and Dr. Iliad Virjay sang amid a large greenhouse. _"Farming is the life for me!" _

"_Pot plants as high as my ear!" _Dr. Quinn sang.

Marco walked over carrying a cooler. _"Come on homies and have ourselves a beer!" _

"Don't mind if I do," Dr. Quinn grinned as Marco started handing them out.

"Hesh wouldn't mind a beer!" A whiny nasal voice spoke up from the field.

"Shut up, Hesh!" Dr. Quinn snapped. "Get back to work!"

"You're just lucky we hired your whiny ass after the mess you made at Sea Lab," Marco added.

"What? Is it my fault the reactor was kind of faulty?" Hesh snapped.

"After you threw hammers at it!" Dr. Virjay snapped. "We're lucky you didn't blow us all up."

"Blow me!" Hesh snapped. A small cloud of smoke blew out.

"Are you smoking our product in **the field?"** Dr. Quinn snapped.

"Heh, heh, heh…" Hesh snickered.

"This may not work out as well as I thought," Dr. Virjay sighed.

"Told you we should have hired some Mexicans," Marco remarked. The others glared at him. "What? It's not racist if **I **say it!"

"Just figured out why you were called into the HR department every other week," Dr. Quinn groaned.

"That crazy woman had the hots for me!" Marco snapped. "**I'm **the one who filed the sexual harassment complaint!"

"I got a complaint…" Hesh spoke up.

"Shut up Hesh!" Dr. Quinn snapped.


End file.
